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<title>And They Say The Art Of Morning Conversation Is Dead by WonderAvian</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23000887">And They Say The Art Of Morning Conversation Is Dead</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderAvian/pseuds/WonderAvian'>WonderAvian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Thunderbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:35:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23000887</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderAvian/pseuds/WonderAvian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgil isn't a morning person. Gordon is grumpy.<br/>"The magic is gone, isn't it?"<br/>Originally posted on tumblr November 17th 2016.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And They Say The Art Of Morning Conversation Is Dead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Virgil sat in one of the chairs by the counter, still in his pyjamas, nursing a cup of coffee. There had been a late rescue last night, so he and his brothers were all quite tired. The coffee the second eldest was having now would keep him awake for at least a few more hours.</p><p>Virgil sighed, idly scratching at the meagre stubble that he hadn’t bothered to get rid of immediately that morning. His eyes were still rather bloodshot. A full head of bed hair didn’t help his appearance much either.</p><p>Gordon ambled into the kitchen then, rubbing at his eyes, his hair also a mess, and looked around for something to drink. He opened the fridge and inspected its contents.</p><p>“Good morning, Gordon,” Virgil greeted the aquanaut.</p><p>Gordon grunted in reply, swinging the fridge shut.</p><p>“We’re out of orange juice,” Gordon muttered sourly, and he eyed Virgil’s cup of caffeinated death with disdain that he didn’t at all bother to hide.</p><p>“Are you trying to kill yourself?” He asked bluntly.</p><p>Virgil shrugged, and rested his face on his palm. He wearily closed his eyes.</p><p>Gordon sneaked up towards him and tugged the cup of coffee out of Virgil’s hand. The aquanaut took a sip, grimaced, and started walking away.</p><p>“The magic is gone, isn’t it?” Virgil said dully.</p><p>“No hug until you shave,” Gordon grumbled from the hallway.</p>
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